Interim
by Cheesekakke
Summary: Hermione Granger with a desk job after the war. Saving house elves? Yeah right. Instead, she is given the case of one Draco Malfoy and a crime he did not commit. By working against the Ministry can she prove the innocence of the man she thinks she loves?
1. Desk job much? Not for long

**Interim**

_by: cheesekakke_

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the reality of the wizarding world or the lovely characters. Jo's playground, my story.

Chapter 1: **Desk job much? Not for long**.

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It had been a year since the war was over. A lot had changed in a year.

Or maybe it was two years. Or three. She wasn't really counting. The past was the past.

Hermione still-Granger was working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and she enjoyed it, thank-you-very much. She had pushed for the name to be changed to The Department for the Communication between Magical Creatures and Wizards, but that had been shot down by her uppity superiors.

Or rather, her superior – in the singular. Amos Diggory, her boss, and my-son-was-the-first-casualty-in-the-war, made her life a living hell and demanded that she as the best negotiator in the office push the papers and let other greenies do the fieldwork.

So who was to blame her when she took regular breaks from the stuffy, on floor -3 office to catch some sunlight and a cup of coffee around the street at a Muggle establishment?

_I am indeed a Muggle and need to respect that heritage._ Hermione stabbed angrily with a quill the latest reports from the groups investigating the goblin uprising in Cambridge. She was just counting the minutes until her lunch hour and regular cup of coffee.

_Finally!_ She set the papers aside and threw the quill in her drawer and her coat on as she swept eagerly towards the door.

"Bye, Granger." Kirk, the morose secretary said to the banging door as she left.

Hermione set a brisk pace around the numerous edifices around the street to reach her destination in order to try and grab some of the bagels left over from breakfast – given for free of course. _tazas,_ spelled purposely without a capital 't', had the best coffee in East London as well as some of the best service and pastries. No wonder Hermione like so much to flirt with the cute waiters while gaining weight at an alarming rate.

She took her customary table near the window and ordered a cappuccino with an extra shot, go easy on the cream. As the flirtatious waiter delivered and Hermione considered a blueberry scone, she saw a flash of ginger and heard the tinkle that accompanied the opening of the door.

"Ginny!" Hermione stood as her best female friend approached the table with a lopsided, its-good-to-be-here smile on her face.

"Hermione! Fancy seeing you here at this place which you only mention, oh, five times a day?" Hermione grinned as Ginny took a seat opposite her and ordered a plain coffee, heavy on the cream, no sugar.

There was a silence as both women sipped their drinks glancing around the café, a comfortable atmosphere between them.

"So, Ginny, do you know yet?" Ginny set her coffee down and chuckled under her breath, touching her stomach self-consciously.

"No. Harry and I have picked out the names already. If it's a boy then he's going to be James Sirius, if a girl then Lily Nymphadora." Hermione laughed. Children were such a wonderful conundrum.

"And you Hermione? Are you in the market or waiting for my brother to pop the question?" Hermione shook her head.

"Officially out of the market. And not really waiting for your brother to pull his head out of his arse either. Though you can tell him if he ever comes around with a rock on a ring my answer is yes."

"He's so incredibly thick-headed isn't he? Thinks the love of his life will wait forever while he's out finding himself."

"Where's he finding himself now, America? California or New York? Neither of which, might I add, have any lack of beautiful women." Hermione raised her cup in a sort of mock toast then drank. Ginny watched her friend with a sober expression on her face. Her hard-working and very dedicated friend needed someone, regardless of what she said.

"If you ever want to appear back on the dating scene, let me remind you that of all of us you were the oldest and now are one of the last to be either married or engaged. Ron, doesn't count, of course."

"Of course." Hermione finished her coffee then glanced at her wrist and noticed with some alarm that she had 146 seconds to be back at the office, her watch timed exactly with Diggory's clock on his desk.

"Shit, Ginny, I've got to go." She threw down a couple of coins on the table and pecked Ginny on the cheek. "Give Harry and those brothers of yours my love!"

Hermione Apparated with alarming speed to the front hall, all the offices having wards around them. She threw her wand hastily at the clerk who checked it hurriedly noting her anxious expression. Grabbing it she sprinted to the elevated punching -3 rapidly as if it would get her there faster. She sprinted to her desk and landed in her chair with 14 seconds to spare. And Diggory walked out of his adjoining office. _Perfect timing._

"Miss Granger, our goblin trackers were able to seize some of the funding the goblins have been acquiring. We gave the serial numbers of the Galleons to Gringotts and they said it originated from this account number" Diggory placed a piece of parchment with 9 numbers on Hermione's desk. Most accounts had 10 numbers, which signified that the funding was coming from a very old account indeed.

"Well, who does the account belong to?" Diggory shrugged.

"I was hoping you could tell me that. You're the one with the copies of the Department of Finances database." Hermione growled a low growl in the back of her throat, Just like Diggory, more grunt work. She got up to her massive file cabinet and pulled out a drawer and began rifling through it looking for account numbers.

_4583456867, 458345688, 458345689…here it was._ Hermione's jaw threatened to drop when the saw the name next to the number.

_Malfoy Estates. Current holder: Draco Malfoy. Previous holder: Lucious Malfoy. Future holder: unknown._

"Ummmm, I mean sir, the account. It's Draco Malfoy's." Diggory frowned behind her.

"The ex-Death Eater chap? The crazy loony who was going to kill Dumbledore? It figures. He was in school with you, wasn't he? Good for nothing aristocrat bastards."

Hermione was still staring at the piece of parchment, her name fixed on Malfoy's. True he was a Death Eater in his past life, or whatever he liked to call it, but he had kept his nose clean for years now, the perfect model of upper-class society.

The last time Hermione had seen him was at his trial – acquitted, of course -. As he passed the three of them sitting on the witness bench he had hissed angrily to Hermione.

"_Why?"_ Hermione had turned to look at Harry and Ron who kept their faces forward, not looking at Malfoy, just listening to the closing statements.

"_Because…" _Hermione paused, _"if Harry could find it in his heart to forgive Snape, then you weren't all that far behind. Besides, we know you're not all that bad. Just tortured." _Malfoy snorted as he walked out the door, not acknowledging Hermione's response.

"-and Granger, you'll be scheduling a meeting with Mr. Malfoy as soon as possible, I want this entire thing wrapped up quickly and with little legal mess as possible." The mention of her name brought Hermione back to the present.

"But sir?! Why me? I haven't been assigned a job outside the office in 18 months! Not that I'm counting. Sir, why this one?" Hermione hadn't mean to come off as whiny, but it was Malfoy for crying out loud. Hermione would rather run with the bulls than see him again. Diggory snorted disdainfully.

"It's about time you saw the light of the day. Try and see if you could schedule a meeting tomorrow." Hermione nodded with her head bent, feeling the blood rush up to her head. Before she knew what was happening she dropped the account file and keeled over backwards, blacked out completely.

"Miss Granger!"

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**A/N:** In the first draft Miss Granger had only 145 seconds to be back at the office. She's welcome for the extra one .

And I would be very thankful for any reviews given. This is my first story in a long time, and I do intend to finish it. (shouts of LIAR!)

Okay, okay. My track record has been miserable. But I intend to finish this…with all my heart.

The next chapter has in fact been written, I just want to see the feedback and if anything needs to be changed or altered.


	2. The present wih woes

**Interim**

By: cheesekakke

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the reality of the wizarding world or the lovely characters. Jo's playground, my story.

Chapter 2: **The Present with Woes**

A/N: I was totally listening to Freebird by Lynyrd Skynyrd while I wrote this. Right down to taking breaks to air guitar all the fantastic riffs (complete with finger positions). So I just wrote it all out on Malfoy.

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Hermione awoke to see the bright lights of the doctor's office above her. She sat up quickly, making herself dizzy and craned her neck to see if there was a doctor in the room. There wasn't.

She slumped back against the pillows just as the door opened with a pneumatic hiss. Or what would be the magical equivalent of one.

"Miss Granger." The bass tones of the unnamed doctor woke her at once from her stupor. "I'm Dr. Gregory Holmes. I'm sure you're anxious to know what happened, and let me reassure you that it was nothing serious."

A series of worst case scenarios began playing itself through Hermione's head. Pregnancy, pneumonia, influenza, typhoid, AIDS, the list was endless.

"How bad is it?" Her voice cracked, she really hoped it was bad enough to get her out of this investigation.

"Apparently you've been under some stress, and your body couldn't process the lactose in spoiled milk like it should. There was a momentary lack of sugars, but your boss did the right thing and we had your sugar levels up pretty quickly. Did you have any coffee or anything with spoiled milk today?"

Hermione blinked and nodded. There was the coffee. It was still Thursday? The coffee had the spoiled milk. Then it hit her.

"Ginny!" She sat bolt upright again and tried to swing her legs out of her bed.

"Yes, well apparently there is one Mrs. Ginevra Potter anxious to know how you are. She's right outside." And with a knowing smile Dr. Holmes left and let a harassed looking Ginny in, followed closely by the Chosen One, Boy-Who-Lived, Ginny's husband, Harry.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Hermione blinked a few times. She really had good friends.

"I'm fine. I was more worried about you and the baby…I mean, the milk being spoiled and all, oh gosh, how are you?!"

"He's fine. I ran tests." Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry in shock. Harry only smiled.

"The news came in while you were out. Molly's already buying the bedroom furnishings. Ron's back in town and is arguing with his mother over baby blue or Chudley Cannons orange for James Sirius Potter" Hermione smiled, despite the mention of Ron back in town.

"He couldn't come to see me, then? It's just his sister and best mate at my bedside." Hermione sighed.

"As I said 'Mione, Chudley Cannons orange."

"That boy never had his head straight." snorted Ginny.

"Speaking of being here for you - ", Harry had adopted his Head of the Auror Department tone. "your boss left a message for you. He says he scheduled your appointment for tomorrow at 3 o'clock sharp in the afternoon." Hermione let her head fall back on the pillow. The present was indeed reasserting itself complete with cares and woe.

"Bugger. That meeting with Malfoy." Ginny started.

"What for? Weren't we all done with him when he was acquitted, what's he want now?"

"Apparently he's been funding the goblin crisis in Cambridge. We got the account info from Gringotts, though why they would work against fellow goblins I have no idea. Diggory", she spat the name, "thinks that I as one of Malfoy's old school chums and due to his class status that an open confrontational meeting will be the best thing. Though, knowing him, he's going to have lawyers running amok his office who are going twist every word I say."

There was a silence as the other two digested the information.

"That's a pretty shitty assignment, Hermione. I'm sorry." Harry looked down at her with a genuine visage of sympathy.

"If you ever need any chamomile tea or need me to ask George for anything you might want to use against Malfoy, don't hesitate." Hermione smiled and Ginny grasped her hand and squeezed it before they left.

Her friends had lives as well, and they kept it to themselves. Possibly a by-product of being married, not needing to lean on friends as much. It disheartened Hermione just a bit so see everyone so close to her find someone to confide in while she was left alone.

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"Morning Granger." Hermione responded with a curt nod to Kirk when she walked in, a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. She sat down behind her desk and rifled through all the papers that needed to be rifled through before the door was flung open and the pompous, to-be-expected form of Amos Diggory thundered in.

"GRANGER! My office. Now." Sighing Hermione walked in and sat in the uncomfortable chair opposite his desk, waiting for the all unimportant speech.

"Granger, here is the address to Malfoy's office. It appears he is actually a Wizarding lawyer now, so be careful what you say to him and how he responds…make no assumptions, lie, trick and cheat your way into getting the truth…if things get out of hand call the Aurors and get out of the way…any information to be used against him…goblins…Cambridge…

…

…

…Any questions?" Hermione managed to wake herself just in time.

"So, this is a full scale operation."

"Yes, Granger, how many times do we have to say that! Make as little mess as possible and turn him in."

"So…what if he's not guilty?" Diggory sat in shock as if Hermione had uttered an Unforgiveable Curse.

"He's _bloody Draco fucking Malfoy! _Good heavens Granger, I hired you on the pretense you had brains! Listen, if there's anything that no-good two faced scum has his fingers in, it's this whole goblin mess."

"Sure, I'll do it." Hermione gave a little non-committal shrug. Diggory wasn't convinced.

"Look, if we get Malfoy on this, he'll easily be the biggest fish we've ever caught. And what does that mean? Easy retirement bonus for me, _promotion_ _for you_. Let me appeal to your cutthroat power-hungry, making a difference in the world side. I leave, you get my job, and you can do whatever you want." All that was needed now was for Diggory to rub his hands conspiratorially and summon an evil green and purple twinkle to light his eyes.

Yet, in the basest sense it all clicked for her. _I can do more with this title; I can push for house-elves rights like I always wanted to. All I need to do now is play Malfoy like a puppet._

"Attagirl! I'll give you your lunch break early, and please be on time for Malfoy!" Hermione left, walking in a time bubble. Lunch, Malfoy, work. She could just as easily forget it all and move to Australia/America/France where she wouldn't have to put up with everything.

_But I love my job!_ The silent voice in the back of her mind screamed at her as she mechanically walked to _tazas. No you don't. Not when it's regulation and control as opposed to helping and compromising._

Oh well, she told herself. Let me just finish off Malfoy first.

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Hermione arrived at the building she had to crane her neck to see the top of, gave up and walked in. The buxom blonde receptionist gave her the once over, noticed the official Ministry robes and made a phone call all while Hermione was admiring the plush interior, the grand fireplace and the crystal chandelier.

"Mr. Malfoy to see you Madam." Hermione whirred to face the receptionist, a confused look on her face as to how a bimbo could have assumed so much correctly.

"But how-"

"Your Ministry Robes. Mr. Malfoy always deals with any legal issues that come up. 7th floor." Hermione gave a curt nod and took the elevator up to the 7th floor.

Upon reaching it she was faced a long, narrow hallway with mahogany slats on the walls and a plush forest green carpet. The door on the other end of the hallway bore a silver nameplate: _Draco Malfoy._

Hermione pushed open the similarly polished mahogany door into what seemed to be Malfoy's office. It had the nameplate on the door in any case. Instead the desk was strewn with papers and Malfoy was sitting atop the papers on his desk with a black electric guitar in his hands, shoe-less feet swinging in time with what he was playing, his tie discarded and his hair rumpled.

The melody was one of haunting familiarity, calling to Hermione memories of lazy summer afternoons when her father took off from work and they sat in the great room together listening to music.

And all at once the tone changed, leading into a violent string of dissonant chords, resolving, inching higher and higher, the melody becoming more abstract, obtuse, piercing, lingering. It was simply raw emotion. And to Hermione it seemed like a release, so much passion, frustration, guilt, joy, and sadness being let out by Malfoy in the form of guitar music.

And then it stopped as Malfoy looked up and noticed Hermione Granger, her mouth wide open.

"What was that?"

"Angry. Bitchin'. Freebird-esque. Completely irrelevant. Sit down Granger."

And with her mouth still hanging open, Hermione took a seat.

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A/N: This chapter was really fun to write since I have three labs due tmrw and I am just shucking them to the side to intertwine my two passions, music and writing. This one isn't nearly as caustically sardonic as the previous chapter was; Hermione was setting some time aside to find herself.

I told you I would have another chapter up! And i've already written about half the 3rd chapter and it's 5 pages long on MS word! Loved all your warm and fuzzy reviews! Keep them coming!


	3. Awkward Bugger

**Interim**

_By: cheesekakke_

Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the reality of the wizarding world or the lovely characters. Jo's playground, my story.

Chapter 3: **Awkward Bugger**

A/N: And now may the plot be established. Much love to all my reviewers and repeat-readers!

Did you know that on average only 1 of people leave reviews? That means out of 100 readers, I only hear one person's voice.

I like hearing voices.

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"So, you're accusing me of funding this little goblin rebellion from the warmth of my office?"

"Yes. The serial numbers on the Galleons came from your account."

"How do you know this? Do you just have random account numbers lying around in massive file cabinets at the Ministry?" Hermione opened her mouth to answer yes, but then somehow remembered Diggory's words.

"No, we got Gringotts to look into it for us. I don't know, maybe _they _have random account numbers lying around. It's not like they're a bank or anything." Malfoy growled. Good, she was touching a nerve.

"Granger, you're a fairly smart girl, from what I've heard. What possible motive could I have for funding little half-brains in backwater England? How will this lead to any gain for me?" Hermione paused. _How did Malfoy stand to gain from this?_

"Well, excuse me for saying this, but you've come off as a power-hungry megalomaniac before, and maybe lots and lots of half-brains could stand up to bigger brains, and then possibly the Ministry could be overthrown with these goblins in control, and naturally they would give position of power to anyone who helped them…" Hermione trailed off, waiting for Malfoy to take the bait. He did, just not in the way she had wanted him to.

"Honestly, Granger, if there's anything you could or should have learned in History of Magic it was that once goblins, of all creatures, gain power, they are loathe to give it up to whoever, regardless of whether said person gave them all the gold in the world. And would you be suggesting that the Ministry be overthrown?" Malfoy put his hand to his heart as if in deep shock and Hermione frowned back. Trust Malfoy to twist her words, that evil, foul, loathsome ferret.

"So, if you're claiming that you're innocent, _why are the Galleons coming from your bank account?" _Malfoy paused, all the while surveying Hermione with a saccharine smile.

"Occam's razor."

"What?" She was flabbergasted.

"Occam's razor. The simplest, most obvious solution to a dilemma is the correct one. Someone's stealing my money." Hermione paused and allowed herself a moment. Just one for Malfoy's sake. And then she laughed.

"You expect me to buy that codswallop? About someone stealing from the Malfoy vault at Gringotts and funding golbins? If I stole from the Malfoy vault I'd go shopping." Malfoy sneered at Hermione's comment.

"Women. So you still think I'm guilty despite my obviously innocent aura?" Hermione snorted. An innocent aura was one thing that Malfoy definitely didn't have.

"Yes. And I intend to bring you in, find you guilty and have this case finished once and for all. These goblins are a threat to the Ministry regardless. They already took down a team of Aurors and we want to make sure that similar cases don't happen."

"Isn't this all a bit hypocritical? Miss Hermione Jean Granger the restless hero of house-elves and other deserving creatures is now reduced to attacking poor helpless goblins?"

"Goblins are not in anyway helpless. Goblins are in fact a separate matter. We can treaty with them, alliance with them. But we need to weaken them first, cut off their funding so they're in no position to demand more than what we intend to give them."

"So, you're going to bring me in on the grounds that I'm power hungry and rich? You're going to explore no other options? That's rather unprofessional of you Miss Granger." _Damn._ He had caught her. It was unprofessional. But it was Malfoy for crying out loud.

"Well, we have no other suspects and the money did come from your vault. So all the conclusive evidence leads to you being taken in. You'll want to schedule an app-"

"Damn it Granger, I'm not guilty!" There was a silence and both heard the clock ticking away. Malfoy was furious and Hermione was in shock.

"Well…what do you want me to do? This is my job and even if I had to bring Harry Potter in I would do it."

"Tell you what. You lead a search, prove my innocence, and capture another guy, the right guy. I'll tip some Malfoy money into the right Ministry pockets, get you whatever position you desire _and_ take you shopping."

Silence.

"That's bribery. It's illegal." There was a great snort from Malfoy.

"No, it's in fact love and kisses. Have my babies." Hermione might have been completely baffled, but she knew sarcasm when she saw it, and coming from Malfoy, it was the closest thing to a please she could get. However-

"No. My people can call yours and set up an appointment about this on Ministry grounds." She turned to leave the room. Malfoy had returned to behind his desk, the guitar on a rack in the corner, shoes and tie still off, hair rumpled. _One of us has to be professional_. As she was walking out Malfoy called to her.

"Offer stands until my inner lawyer bursts out. Then you'd better be prepared for all Hell to break loose."

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"So…?" Diggory sprung upon her the minute she entered her office the next day.

"Complete and utter crap. Got no confession out of him, he thinks he's innocent and demand I prove he's not before I take him in."

"Well, plant some evidence. He's guilty Granger. You and I and the rest of the world, we know this."

"I don't know. He seemed pretty adamant about the whole being innocent part."

"He's also the sneakiest, slimiest, most arrogant toerag to ever exist. He's as innocent as my son is alive." _Bugger him. _Hermione hated any and all mention of Cedric especially in the I'm-using-my-son-to-get-to-you sort of way.

"I'll think about it. I'll look into it. But, sir, I'm not offering any promises." Diggory smiled.

"That's all I hired you for." Hermione left Diggory's office angrily. She wasn't exactly on Malfoy's side, but no-one deserved to be proclaimed guilty if there was even a shred of evidence to prove their innocence.

She could take up Malfoy's offer, but that would be completely unethical. Did he really think he could get her with something as base as bribery?

Well, not directly. She _could_ conduct a completely off the charts investigation, and _could_ find evidence to stick someone else in jail and prove him innocent. As far as the moral justification went, Hermione told herself that she was curious and worked for the protection of the civilians.

_Bollocks. It was all about that shopping trip._ Hermione looked down. Her faded green polo peeked out from under her Ministry robes and her jeans were ripped in various 'artistic' places and frayed around the bottom.

_Oh well._ Hermione went to her desk. She still had an hour before lunch and sorting pointless papers did not appeal to her at all. On the flip side she was getting payed to shuffle bits of paper around, so Hermione pulled out the file on the goblins and read through it.

It wasn't a great piece of literary work, and the goblins weren't really being inventive with their crimes. But the sheer amount of robberies, accounts of vandalism and dead-cats-on-doorsteps had brought the situation to Ministry attention. And since one Harry Potter wanted to take no chances he had sent a group of young Aurors to investigate. They had come back empty handed.

It was hard to know where to start from. Either she caught a goblin and forced the truth out of him, or stalked the Malfoy vault to watch for intruders, or threw imaginary darts at an imaginary list of suspects and arrested the name it landed on.

Problem was that on this imaginary list, Malfoy was the only suspect.

_Damn._ She needed more info. And there was still time before her lunch break.

"Diggory won't care. It's research after all." Hermione spoke to no-one in particular and left the office with her coat and purse.

After she took a breath of untainted Muggle air, Hermione Apparated to Diagon Alley. The familiar bustle of shoppers with the street sellers and the loud calls of whatever animal was on sale comforted Hermione as she left Diagon Alley main and climbed the colossal marble steps of Gringotts.

"Morning sir. I'm from the Ministry representing Draco Malfoy and I'd like to take a look at his withdrawal records."

"Can't do that." The grumpy green goblin grunted from behind the garrulous garnet-specked counter. Hermione tapped her less-than manicured fingernail impatiently.

"Yes you can, I'm from the Ministry." Hermione withdrew her card and flashed it at the goblin like the police did in the Muggle movies. Honestly, weren't her robes and mannerisms enough identification?

"You can be the Minister for Magic. Thing is, you're obviously not Malfoy or any of the descendents thereof and I can't let you see those records."

"I could seize them and then there'd be a major incident over some lousy withdrawal logs just because some dim-witted upstart didn't know what was good for him and decided to stick his nose up some talented Ministry official's ars-"

"I get it! Don't have a cow." The goblin scurried over to the large, gold bound ledger books with a piece of parchment and quickly jotted down some figures. Hermione took them, eyeing the goblin warily.

"These better be right. You could be tried and found guilty for aiding and abetting a criminal if you switched the numbers." Hermione searched the goblin for a name tag.

"Greko." The goblins face fell and murmured something along the lines of 'sorry' and 'switch'.

He returned mere moments later with another list, this time not handwritten but torn straight out of the ledger.

"Does this please madam?" Greko's voice was syrupy sweet and Hermione wanted to punch him in the face, but she remained dignified and folded the paper into her purse.

"Thank you, that will do." Hermione walked out and ignored the angry goblin glares behind her. She had never liked working with them.

Seating herself at an outdoor table at a small pocket café (White Chocolate Mocha, please) Hermione brought out the piece of parchment torn from the ledger. The account number, date, time and amount withdrawn were painstakingly inscribed in what Hermione knew was Everlasting Ink so that no-one could go in and change it.

Mafoy looked pretty legit to her eyes. There were steady withdrawals of 50,000 Galleons every month or so (_damn!_) and the occasional relatively large amount. But it was always neat, no superfluous digits, no Sickles or Knuts (perhaps he broke them later).

There were few conclusions to be reached. He could have seriously lowered his standard of living and used the leftover money for goblin funding. The idea was completely absurd. All Malfoy's threw lots and lots of money around.

Or he could not be funding the operation from Gringotts. He could have the funds in an offshore bank and use those to fund goblins. Or someone could steal them since no-one seemed to be stealing from Gringotts.

But then Hermione reached the limit in her knowledge of wizard banking and finances. Could you wire funds like Muggles did? Did it have to be gold? Hermione didn't want to bother Bill anytime in the near future, partly because Ron would most probably be living at Bill and Fleur's house.

Hermione glanced down at the list. It was so unnervingly orderly! Withdrawals were always done on Mondays so most of the dates were 7 or 14 days apart. The time was always between five minutes before and after nine in the morning. The amount withdrawn was generally a one or five or some combination thereof, followed by plenty of zeroes.

Far from planning a goblin rebellion Malfoy didn't seem to be doing anything out of the ordinary at all!

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The ledger sheet was tacked on the wall behind Hermione's desk and every time she got fed up with escaped house-elves and troll sightings Hermione turned to survey the list.

"You goddamn perfectionist!" Hermione threw her stress ball at the parchment and it rolled and bounced out of sight.

There was a friendly reminder from Kirk about the 'no cussing' rule instated by Diggoy and after muttering a colourful response under her breath Hermione went back to the withdrawals.

_There must be something here. Some pattern I might have missed, some secret withdrawal written in Invisible Ink._ But try as she might there was nothing.

"I insist Granger. Take the rest of the afternoon off." She started. That definitely wasn't her boss being that lenient. Swinging around Hermione found herself face to face with none other than Kingsley.

"Kingsley!" Hermione squeaked out before remembering where she was, and most importantly who _he _was.

"Minister. Thank you…umm…for the afternoon, but I think I will be much too…" Hermione trailed off. There honestly was no excuse to stay. Hermione really wanted to go home.

"Hermione, you look dead tired. I'll talk to Diggroy. But we expect you back here in the morning, prompt as always.

_Prompt, okay yeah._ Hermione breathed a sigh of relief grabbed the portfolio on the goblins and ripped the ledger sheet off the wall and stuffed it in there.

"Thank you sir. Of course, I'll be here tomorrow. Thanks a lot, really." Hermione grabbed all her effects and made as if she would high tail it out the door. And then Kingsley's voice stopped her once more.

"And I've got an invitation of some sort here for you." Hermione turned and took it from Kingsley's hand and then she really did bolt out the door.

As she rode in the elevator to the Atrium she considered popping in on Harry and making his life miserable, the invitation tucked in her coat pocket completely forgotten about.

The sun hit Hermione's face through the slats in the hall outside her flat. Located in prime Muggle territory it was merely a tube and train away from her parents and 5 stops down from the Ministry of Magic. Harry and Ginny lived in Godric's Hollow and Ron wherever the hell he pleased, but Hermione liked her nice quiet flat in the middle of nowhere where she could stand on the rail on her balcony and no once would know or care that she was a witch.

"Damn you GRANGER! Where's last month's rent?" Hermione yelped scrambling to find the envelope that contained it. Her pointless job at the Ministry was causing her to be more forgetful that she was normally accustomed to being, which was not at all.

"Sorry Mrs. Withers! Have it down in a mo'!" Hermione ran frantically down the steps to have the envelope snatched from her hand by a wrinkled, shriveled old lady.

"Don't forget next time, girl. And I wonder where you get the money to pay for it all. Not like you ever work or…" Hermione went back up the stairs, to her flat and slammed the door. Nothing like Mrs. Withers to assume the worst.

The forgotten invitation fluttered to the ground and Hermione picked it up and ripped it open. It was probably another one of those war heroes banquets she was invited to from time to time, hosted by some French family whose customs resembled those of a baboon with a poker jammed straight up his-

_Granger._

Okay, most definitely not a banquet request. A masochist convention? Honestly, an invite that started so harshly?

_I hate to interrupt your no doubt brilliant thoughts but I have this problem of mine that needs to be addressed._

Who would seek advice from her? With a sarcastic tone nonetheless!

_No doubt you've given my offer considerable thought and have probably started working on it (so I hear from a disgruntled goblin by the name of Greko)._

Malfoy! The cheeky, insolent bugger! This was an invitation. After a few choice swear words to the accent pillows, Hermione read on.

_The problem is that I would like to know how my innocence is taking shape in your mind. And since your brain is to big to fit in a letter (have you ever tried a box as opposed to a letter?) and I'm not a mind reader the most logical solution is a face to face meeting._

The fucking BASTARD!

_Therefore, I suggest tea sans crumpets at the Malfoy Manor this Monday the 17__th__ at 4:30 PM. Formal dress is not required. What is required is your knowledge which will obviously lead to my innocence._

_Entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem,_

_Malfoy._

Hermione was well-prepared to not show up and move to Australia. How dare he think that after insulting her to such a degree that she would voluntarily show up at his doorstep with a smile and let him go? And yet Hermione found herself rummaging for a spare bit or parchment and quill to ink a response.

_Malfoy_

_Am thinking of showing up starkers to your tea party. And I intend to make you go bankrupt on that shopping trip. But yes, you assumed correctly. Hope you pulled your head out of your arse long enough to understand this._

_What's with the non-clever obscure Latin phrase?_

_Granger._

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There was nothing that Hermione hated more than a large gathering of her old Hogwarts friends. Don't misunderstand, it wasn't that she hated their guts or they had offended her. But they had turned into smug married/engaged couples. And what's more uncomfortable to a single woman than lots of smug, happy couples?

""Mione, I just have to tell you the most fabulous story! Nev and I went up to Scotland last weekend where we found a true breeder of Freshwater Plimpies!" Neville chimed in, almost as if on cue.

"They have the most fascinating diet, I didn't know that there was such variety in Scottish underwater greens!"

"Mmhmm." Hermione was beginning to think that showing up starkers at Malfoy's was indeed a good idea, especially since she had to put up with_ this_ the day before.

"Hermione, darling you seem bored. May I offer you some tea? Pumpkin juice? Hard cider?" Hermione shook her head. Firewhiskey sounded good, but Luna was pregnant and there was none in the house.

"No thank you, Luna." And Hermione found herself whisked away in a conversation regarding, _oh the horror, _**baby names.**

"Seamus, what do you think of naming our child Francisco?"

"Naw, Lav, that's a gay, creepy Italian stripper name. How about Scott?"

"Scott! Why that's absolutely disgraceful, no child should have such a common name! Names should be as unique as the person. I am thinking of naming my son Rogerian." Hermione growled as she took a sip of her wine. That was Luna Longbottom for you. The entire table was getting sucked into this conversation.

"George and I have decided to name our child Josh if it's a boy and Tara if it's a girl."

_I hope then for the poor girl's sake that she's a boy. Tara…?_

"Charmante! What a lovely name, as eef the sky 'as come down 'erself to grace us!"

"Marcus…

"…the boy will be such a loser…"

"…what was that interesting name you brought up the other day, Harry?"

"…yes, I like that one, Hermione what do you think about…?" She started at Harry's sudden effort to include her. Everyone was looking at her with half-concealed grins as if expecting some great response. What was the question?

"Erm…yes, in fact I quite like the name. Unique." Bugger. Hermione hoped it was unique.

There was a silence until Lavender stifled a laugh from behind her napkin. Damn. She had screwed up. Harry too was trying not to laugh.

"About a drink? That's not a nice name at all. But I'm glad you think it's unique. Firewhiskey?" And Harry pulled a bottle out of thin air and poured Hermione a liberal amount.

"Oh, Harry, yes please, You're a life saver."

----

Ten glasses and one very drunk Apparation later…

Hermione stumbled back to her apartment and groped for the keys inside her pocket. No more couples conventions for her, just the hard liquor at home.

Going inside, Hermione dumped the jacket on the couch and gasped in pain as something sharp seared across her hand cutting it and causing drops of blood to fall delicately onto the linoleum.

_What the…?_

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**A/N: **This was hard to write. I really had to plow through, but I got what I needed to get done, plot wise. And I hoped you enjoyed it. I've already started on the next chapter. This was 9 pages on Microsoft Word.

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE! REVIEW! If I don't get your comments I don't know how to get better.

_Love, cheese_


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